


The Lion, The Serpent, and the Herald of Andraste

by greyvvardenfell



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blindfolds, Dialogue Heavy, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensation Play, Sexual Fantasy, Teasing, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:00:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11308158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyvvardenfell/pseuds/greyvvardenfell
Summary: Inquisitor Jakariel Lavellan has a little bit of a crush on Commander Cullen. When their innocent card game turns interesting, Jakariel is very glad of the table hiding the evidence of his interest. But Dorian, sitting right beside him, notices anyway and decides to have some fun. He admires Cullen too (who doesn't?), and he can't say he blames his amatus this time. At least it'll be Dorian’s hands bringing Jak relief tonight.





	The Lion, The Serpent, and the Herald of Andraste

Jakariel Lavellan shifted in his seat, rearranging his hand of cards without really looking at it and cursing himself for wearing such tight trousers. How could he have known that accepting Varric’s innocent invitation would put him in a position like this? What was supposed to be a friendly card game between colleagues was rapidly turning rather more delicate as Commander Cullen Rutherford lost hand after hand, and, by extension, article of clothing after article of clothing, and Jakariel didn't know how much longer he could hide the building, aching need of the erection tenting his pants under the table. It wasn’t often he found himself in this state, but the compression of his leggings made his arousal difficult to ignore and even harder to conceal from curious eyes. He was grateful for the table shielding him everyone's sight. Well, almost everyone's.

Beside him, Dorian smirked. Jakariel had been responsible for driving him to similar distraction many times, most recently in the garden of the Winter Palace itself, and to see the elf squirm felt like justice being served. Jak had made no secret of the attraction he felt towards Cullen, especially to Dorian in the comfort of their chambers, and the Tevinter mage didn't blame him: their commander was indeed attractive, if shockingly unaffected by his or any man's desires. Now, with his dark blond hair disheveled and his face burning red with embarrassment, Dorian could see the appeal. And clearly, Jakariel saw it as well. A muscle in the Inquisitor’s jaw twitched as Cullen threw his cards down defeatedly and ran his hand through his hair again, ruffling the curls further. Dorian turned his head to hide his triumphant smile.

“Must we really do this?” The commander asked, a hint of desperation at the edge of his gently rasping voice.

“I don't know, Commander,” teased Varric, emphasizing his title. “You're the one who made the bet. And are you or are you not a man of your word?”

Cullen pursed his scarred lips in a pout and Jakariel flinched, rolling his hips subtly in response before he could stop himself. Dorian stifled a chuckle and began to inch his hand closer to Jak’s thigh, rubbing his palm across the tightly clenched muscle towards his lover’s telltale bulge.

“Dorian,” Jakariel whispered, feeling his touch. “We need to get out of here. I can’t take it anymore.”

“Oh? Not as fun when it’s you in the hot seat, is it?” chuckled Dorian softly as he slid across Jak's erection.

The Inquisitor swallowed a hungry groan and thrust against Dorian’s hand. He let out his breath through his nose in a long sigh. “Can’t you tease me about this later, when it’s not so… public?”

“I seem to recall you saying something to me last time, something about ‘making me into an exhibitionist after all?’” Dorian swirled his fingers over Jakariel’s cock. “Consider me converted, amatus.”

Jakariel blinked, trying to regain his composure. “I suppose I deserve this, don’t I?”

Across the table, Cullen, wriggling in his seat, produced his smallclothes from under the table with a humiliated flourish, tossing them over his shoulder to join the pile of clothing already on the floor behind him. “I think I lost,” he said through clenched teeth.

The room roared with laughter, allowing Jakariel an opportunity to moan openly without giving himself away. Only Dorian heard, his lover's predicament rapidly contributing to the building of his own. Luckily, Tevinter robes served much better for hiding erections than the sleek southern trousers Jakariel favored in Skyhold. Dorian grinned as he leaned over to whisper into Jak’s sharply-pointed ear. “I suppose you do.”

\--------

Jakariel somehow managed to disguise his ever-growing need as the room slowly emptied, though it took most of his concentration to do so. His companions drained their tankards one by one and filtered away until only four remained: Varric, Dorian, himself, and, still naked, Cullen. The elf was nearing his wit’s end, spurred on by the infrequent caresses of Dorian’s wandering hands and the sight of Cullen’s broad, scarred chest, grown soft in his time spent at his desk, taunting him from across the table. His distracted mind helpfully supplied him with images of the Commander's head lolling in pleasure as Jak took his cock into his skilled mouth, of the clench of his strong hands in Jak's ice-blond hair as the man guided him, of the ragged groan he would release as he spilled himself down Jak's eager throat.

“Are you really shuffling again, Varric?” Cullen asked, startling Jakariel from his daydreams. “Do you want my skin off next?

Varric eyed the Commander cheekily. “Giving up so easily?”

“Giving up?” sputtered Cullen, gesturing wildly at himself. “If I wanted to give up, I would have done so before I sold my dignity for sixteen royals!”

“Cheap at twice the price,” Dorian commented, his smirk redoubled. He leaned back in his chair, watching Jakariel out of the corner of his eye. “Shall we call it a day, then?”

“Bah, you guys are no fun.” Varric set down the deck and stood up.

“Speak for yourself,” Dorian murmured to Jak, who swallowed hard before clearing his throat.

“Thanks for the game, Varric,” he said, mostly succeeding at controlling the tremor in his deep voice. His diplomatic efforts with the Inquisition had schooled him well, though he doubted very seriously that this was how he was intended to use his new skills. “We'll have to do it again sometime.”

“Agreed,” said Dorian.

“Just don't make me repeat this,” mumbled Cullen, glancing behind himself to gauge the distance to his clothes.

“Make you? No, this was all your doing, Curly,” Varric said. “Maybe you should practice your poker face before we try again.” He walked almost lazily to the pile of Cullen’s discarded clothing and rifled through it before producing his cloak. “Looking for this?”

“Yes, thank you,” said Cullen shortly, taking the heavy bearskin.

Jakariel watched the exchange tensely, painfully aware of his iron-hard cock pounding its presence with every heartbeat. Dorian scooted closer and took his hand, entwining their fingers and smiling gently, though there was still a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “I think you’ve earned a reward, Inquisitor,” he breathed. “I’m only too happy to provide it.”

Jakariel’s nut-brown skin burned with his need, the blush gracing his prominent cheekbones. He hoped others would blame it on the tavern ale. “You’d better be, since this is your fault.”

“My fault?” Dorian feigned quiet outrage. “Are you quite certain another man hasn’t caught your eye?”

“The way you said that, I’m not convinced you didn’t set this up all for my benefit."

“I did nothing of the sort. Although I may have brought up something about your fondness for cards the last time our glorious commander and I met for one of our chess games.” Dorian smiled smugly. “And a further something about a get-together Varric had in mind for this very time and place. Astounding how the pieces just fell into place, isn’t it?”

“You are a wicked, wicked man, ma’arlath,” Jakariel sighed, shifting his gaze between Dorian and Cullen’s struggle to cover himself. “And you have far too much time on your hands.”

“That one’s your fault,” Dorian chided, directing Jak’s eyes back to him with the press of a gentle finger against his jaw. He leaned in for a kiss.

Jakariel pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily and surveying his lover with hooded eyes. “Is this part of that reward you mentioned?”

“Oh, I have something much more fun planned for that. This is merely a bonus. And a diversion.”

“From wh—?”

“If you could all just forget that this happened,” Cullen interrupted tersely, “I'd be grateful.” He’d settled upon wrapping his cloak around himself backwards, and the thick fur of it threatened to engulf his face completely.

“Not a chance,” murmured Dorian as he withdrew from Jak with a final lingering caress between his legs. Jakariel nearly whined at the loss.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have very important, er, commanding to do,” continued Cullen, attempting to square his shoulders under the mass of his cloak. He inclined his head in farewell, wrinkling his nose against the tickle of the fur, and turned around to gather up the rest of his clothes. Varric, who had returned to the table to collect his own belongings after assisting the commander, pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to stifle his amusement. Jakariel could have sworn he saw the dwarf wink at Dorian, but his attention was soon diverted by the sight of Cullen’s bare ass as he bent over, the hook on his cloak gaping open.

The commander straightened like he’d been struck by lightning as soon as he felt a breeze where there shouldn’t have been one. “Andraste’s flaming sword, Varric!” he roared as he wheeled around to face him. “You said you got it!”

Varric wheezed in laughter, pounding the table with his fist. “F-faulty workmanship,” he gasped, wiping away a tear.

Cullen growled and began to advance towards him, anger and embarrassment warring in his sharp golden eyes as he realized that his attempted threat was somewhat lessened in intensity by the fact that he'd clamped his hands firmly around his backside.

Dorian chuckled at the sight as well, though he wasn't nearly as amused as Varric, but reached for Jak’s hand again, pulling him out of his seat. “Let’s go, while they’re distracted,” he said quietly, pushing himself between Jakariel and the table to shield him. He could feel the press of the Inquisitor’s erection against his thigh, insistent and burning hot even through their clothes. “Stay close, amatus.”

“Your wish is my command,” Jakariel said breathlessly. His regret at leaving the nude commander's presence was tempered by the thrill of the friction Dorian’s closeness provided. He let his lover lead the way out of the tavern into the night, across Skyhold’s deserted courtyard and through the echoing main hall to his quarters, Dorian’s strong, warm hand tight in his own.

As soon as he heard his chamber door shut, Jakariel moaned openly and pulled Dorian against him, eager for more of the mage’s attentions. Dorian laughed at his enthusiasm but turned away, beckoning him up the stairs. “Now, now, we’re going to do this properly,” he said.

Jakariel couldn’t help the whimper that escaped his throat. “Dorian, please.”

“Won’t it feel all the better, having waited so long?”

“This is torture,” Jak muttered, scowling. “First Cullen, now you... I’m never doing this to you again, ma’arlath. It isn’t as fun as I thought it was, being on the other side.”

“We’ll see if you still think that after we’re done,” said Dorian with a sly half-smile. “I have a feeling you’ll change your mind.”

They reached the landing in the middle of the stairs and rounded the corner. Dorian took Jak’s hand again and guided him up the final flight of steps into their room. “Do you trust me?” Dorian asked suddenly, brushing a strand of hair from Jakariel’s face.

“Of course,” Jak answered without hesitation.

Dorian smiled and kissed him deeply, working at the fastenings of the Inquisitor’s soft gray tunic as he did so. The sudden movement startled Jakariel, until he realized that this meant his release was finally on its way. He started to help his lover undress him eagerly, but Dorian batted him away. “Let me,” the mage said softly. He sent a burst of magic behind him at the sconce on the wall with one hand while the other peeled the tunic away from Jak’s lean brown chest and let it fall to the floor, forgotten. Dorian ran his fingers down his ribs and didn’t hesitate when he reached the waistband of the trousers that had been causing such trouble, sliding them down Jak’s thighs and kneeling to pull them off completely.

Jakariel steadied himself on Dorian’s shoulders, shuddering at the thought of how close the mage’s mouth now was to his cock. He could feel his breath along his aching shaft, warm against the precum leaking from his tip. “Please,” he whispered.

Dorian chuckled deep in his throat and stood, shedding his robes and revealing his own erection. “In good time. There’s still your reward to consider, or had you forgotten already?”

“Any touch at all would be reward enough, Dorian! Please!”

“Patience, my dear Inquisitor,” tutted Dorian. “They say it’s a virtue.”

“Have I ever given you the impression that I was concerned about being virtuous?” Jak asked through clenched teeth. Without the constriction of his tight leggings, he felt better, but desire still pulsed through him with every heartbeat. “Does this look like the cock of a virtuous man?”

“It looks like the cock of a man who saw something he liked and couldn’t have,” replied Dorian, taking a step back to survey him. "We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?” He smirked and turned towards the dresser, producing a length of black satin from one of the drawers. “And stop you from seeing anything else that might end the night far too soon.”

“You want to blindfold me?”

“It’s part of your reward. We can always remove it, if you feel uncomfortable. Just tell me, amatus.”

Jakariel smiled. “I said I trusted you, and I do. And I’ll try anything once, you know that.”

“That’s why I love you so,” said Dorian fondly as he circled around to secure the blindfold.

“Is it the only reason?”

“I could probably think of a few more, if pushed.” Dorian carded through Jak’s pale hair and kissed his cheek. “But that could take awhile, and I get the sense you’d rather be getting on with things.”

“I’ve only wanted that for the last hour, I think.”

“Of course.”

Dorian’s presence melted away from Jakariel’s back and he smothered the impulse to turn around and look for him. A wave of ice-cold air washed over his shoulders, tingling with magic. “You know,” said Dorian in a sultry tone, close to his ear, “I almost wish we’d invited the gallant commander to join us after all.”

“He’d never accept,” Jak replied, raising an eyebrow under the blindfold.

Dorian shushed him. “Let me talk, amatus. This is your reward.”

“Oh, right, okay. Carry on.”

Jak could almost hear him roll his eyes before he disappeared again. “Knight-Captain Cullen Stanton Rutherford, leader of the military forces of the mighty Inquisition reborn,” Dorian murmured. “Attracted to women, tragically, but imagine what the man would think if he knew what he’d done to his poor Inquisitor.”

The cool rush of air across his back retreated. “If I were to guess,” continued Dorian’s voice from somewhere to Jak’s right. “I’d say he’d be only too keen to solve the problem he caused. He likes helping people, our Cullen.” On the last word, Dorian drew his chilled fingers down Jakariel’s sternum, making him shiver in delight.

“The commander could walk up those steps right now, in fact. He’d see how beautiful you look in this state, amatus.” His voice sharpened into a hiss and he continued his path down Jak’s abdomen, floating his palm above his shaft before pulling away again. “And he’d take pity on you.”

Jak realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out slowly, his heart racing. He felt the room retreat as he relaxed, his only thought of where Dorian’s teasing hands would appear next.

“He would take off that ridiculous cloak and show off those wide shoulders, that muscular chest.” Tendrils of frost crept along Jak’s collarbone. “He would kneel in front of you and give you that crooked smile you so adore. Maybe he’ll let you kiss that scar of his. Would you like that, Jakariel?”

He barely managed to nod. Dorian chuckled. “Commander Cullen would like it too. He’s never felt a man’s lips before, though he’s pretty certain he knows what a man wants.”

A hand curved around his flank, trailing cool streaks and pausing on his hips. Jak gasped and staggered as Dorian finally turned his attention to his cock, planting a single, teasing kiss on the tip. “Ah, he was right.”

Jakariel could hear the amusement in Dorian’s voice. “It doesn’t take a genius to work that out,” he muttered breathlessly.

Dorian ignored him. “And he would take those big hands of his and—” The mage banished the frost from his fingertips and stroked along Jak’s length slowly, drawing out the sensation.

Jak bucked his hips and sagged forward, catching himself on Dorian’s shoulders. “More,” he breathed.

“—he’d let you feel every callous—”

“More!”

“—and then our commander would part those fine, scarred lips and _take_ you—”

His hand vanished, replaced by a warm, wet mouth. Feeling Dorian’s tongue against him set Jakariel keening his pleasure into the darkened chamber. The ends of the blindfold trailed down his neck, the satin smooth and cool against his overheated skin. His legs trembled as Dorian slid up the backs of his thighs, squeezing his ass as he guided Jak’s cock down his throat.

Just as soon as he had begun, he pulled away. Jakariel moaned at the loss and felt tears of frustration build at the corners of his covered eyes. “Dorian,” he gasped. “Dorian, I can’t—”

“Or perhaps,” the Tevinter said, pausing to wipe his mouth on the back of his hand. “Cullen would prefer to be elsewhere.” He stood. “Maybe behind you? I can attest to it being an excellent view.”

“Please,” whispered Jak, his cock twitching in agony. He straightened up and rolled his head back as Dorian melted away again.

“You could feel his heartbeat, with your head against his chest.” Jak felt smooth skin behind him and leaned back, unsteady on his feet. “Just like that.”

Dorian ran his tongue along the edge of Jakariel’s ear. The elf shuddered and let out a strangled breath, biting his lip to hold in his moans. Dorian smiled to himself and ground his hips against Jak’s back, letting him feel his own erection.

“He’d wrap his arms around you,” Dorian said, his voice thick. “And he’d let his hands drift lower and lower.”

Words eluded Jak in the spiraling haze of his arousal. He arched against Dorian, panting.

“And he’d finally give you what you need.”

Jakariel burst into circles of light and fire. He barely had time to revel in the relief of Dorian’s touch before he was cast adrift on a wave of pleasure, spilling himself at last as the mage pumped his purpled shaft. Jak gave a breathless cry and collapsed against his lover’s warm chest, his legs turned boneless by the force of his orgasm. Every muscle relaxed as one, their tension released in the spatter of his seed across the room. Time contracted to a single moment, an eternity.

Soft hands against his cheek. A brush of fabric along his spine. He blinked. Bright, too bright. Where was he? _Dorian_. “Dorian,” he croaked, the only word he could manage.

“My amatus.” Jakariel felt the voice rumble through the warmth against which he leaned. Gentle kisses along his collarbone, up his neck. The tickle of a mustache against his jaw.

 _Dorian_. Slowly, his mind returned, guided in by caresses across his flushed brown skin. His heartbeat receded back into his chest and his lungs stopped heaving. He sighed, closed his eyes, rested his head on Dorian’s shoulder. They breathed together.

“Did you like your reward?” The voice came distantly.

“Do you really have to ask?”

A chuckle that shook the world. “It’s always nice to hear that one’s work is appreciated.”

“Mm.” Jak turned to kiss Dorian’s chin. “That was--”

“Incredible? Magnificent? A sensation against which all future orgasms will be measured and, regrettably, fall short?”

“And more,” Jakariel agreed. “How did you do that?”

“What, tease you? I’m an old hand at that, as you know.”

“That was more than teasing.”

Dorian smiled. “I won’t reveal my secrets. Takes all the magic away.”

“How much will I owe you if I said you were right?”

“About…?”

“About me liking this. A lot.”

“Oh, I’m sure we can come up with a reasonable payment plan, perhaps in monthly installments?”

Jakariel turned around in his lover’s embrace and kissed him deeply, looping his lean arms around his neck. “This better not come up during any of your chess games,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against Dorian’s. “It’s going to be hard enough to keep myself together when the commander and I are alone in the War Room.”

He laughed. “It’ll be our secret. Although I do have a request, if I may?”

“You could ask me to buy all of Orlais right now and I’d probably say yes, ma’arlath.”

“Oh? I’ll get out my wishlist then. But first, I wonder if I could trouble you to, erm, return this favor for me at some to-be-determined future time?”

Jakariel smiled slyly. “I’ll probably have to bring in a crate or something to stand on. Bull’s, like, two feet taller than me.”

“You know me so well.” Dorian coughed and glanced away, his cheeks reddening. “I didn’t even have to ask, did I?”

“I think you did a fairly good job of planting the idea in my head,” Jak said. “Consider it a date.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” He kissed him again, gentle and lingering. “I love you, amatus.”

“I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Someday I will write non-smut of Jak and Dorian. Today is not that day.


End file.
